Stranger
by heroesfan1
Summary: A year after Sylar leaves, a strange case from Gotham lands on Claire's desk...The Joker returns from Arkham, and Peter calls Sylar back to help them with a little help from Emma.Madness meets darkness. SylarxClaire, PeterxEmma
1. Prologue: It Begins

_6 years after the Carnival...A year after Sylar left..._

_**The New Company, **_

_**Founders: Claire Bennet, Peter Petrelli**_

Claire smiled as she walked by the polished plaque outside the building. It had been one of the defining moments of her life. It had been her idea, to start a company that didn't, urm...Terrify Specials, but a Company that helped them. Especially since the jump. She winced as she remembered it. She definitely didn't regret it, because it had lead to all of...She looked around at the tall, shining building around her...This. It wasjust that the days that had followed the infamous jump had been hard. It had taken almost a year for things to calm down, and even then...There were still some people who disagreed. Numerous religious groups, people who were weirded out by the fact that she could grow back her arm...Lots of people. Noah.

She gritted her teeth as she thought of her dad. He still worked with her, still loved her to bits, still would do anything for her, but...It had to be said that a slight strain had been put on their relationship after the jump, and even though she had managed to win him round, it wasn't the same anymore. In alot of ways it was better now, he respected her more, respected her decisions and feelings...But she still missed being daddy's little girl. She sighed as she breezed past Peter's empty office and into the conference room. She had no time for reflection now. Apparently, they had some big case. But in Peter's case, that could mean his engagement ring was missing. Again.

"Hey Peter, is your ring missing again? 'Cause Emma is going to..." She trailed off when she saw the serious faces that clouded the room. Then she noticed the screen. A man wearing a disturbing amount of white face paint and a hideous, garish grin stared back at her. He had green hair, black eyes and looked completely, utterly terrifying. She asked, turning in confusion to Peter, who was watching her with a grim expression on his face.

Peter's lips lifted slightly at that. He chose not to answer her though, instead pushing a file at her from across the room. "Read." He ordered, glancing up at the screen in a mixture of disgust and wonder. Claire skimmed the file, eyes widening as she ran her eyes over the miniscule words. She looked up at Peter, sceptical and unbelieving. "You have got to be kidding me."

Peter shook his head grimly, bangs falling into his face.

**The Joker**

**M.O: No definitive method of operation. Unpredictable.**

**Weapons used in last crime: Nitrous Oxide, Numerous guns(see page 53)**

**Most Recent Crime: Suspected Armed Robbery at the Mayflower Bank in Gotham.**

**Ability: Unknown. Suspected to be some kind of mind intoxication, but nothing definitive. **

**Crimes committed: Murder, Mayhem, Vehicular homicide, Double Murder, Robery, Theft, Burglary...**The list went on.

Claire looked up at Peter, more serious then she'd ever been in her life. "Who the hell s this guy?" He took a deep breath and shook his head, pulling out another file. "6 days ago he escaped from Arkham Asylum. Our Special radar picked him up three days ago, with this file, and we put one of our best team on it." He pushed the folder at her. "This is what happened to them." Claire hesitantly opened the folder and immediately closed it, wincing. Moments of heavy silence followed.

"Was that urm...Jane and Liam...From downstairs?" Claire asked, feeling lightheaded when she remembered the unnatural way the bodies had been twisted. Peter and Noah nodded gravely. Claire's face tightened, then smoothed. "I want us to fully support their funerals, and offer counselling to their families." She said, looking pointedly at Noah. "Give Angela a call. I'm sure she can arrange something." Claire ordered, gathering up the Joker files. "I'm disallowing all agents from going in on this one. I'll do this myself." Peter and Noah both opened their mouths to dispute her but she shushed both of them with an unaturally harsh look.

"Peter; you're getting married next month. There is no way I or Emma will let you near this thing." She turned to Noah. "Dad, you don't even have powers. Look at this!" She waved the photos of Jane and Liam at him. "Jane was a pyrokenetic. Liam had telekenisis! If they couldn't defend themselves, how can you?Or anyone else? I'm the one who can't die, I'm not sending my agents out there to get killed." Claire paused. "Not until we know what we're dealing with." Noah opened his mouth to argue, but couldn't. "Claire, I'm not letting you go in without someone to back you up. This guy is dangerous." He finally said.

"It's not really your choice, is it dad?" She snapped, picking up her bag. She was about to leave the conference room when Peter stopped her. "Claire, how would you feel about sending another immortal in on this one?" Claire turned back to Peter, incredulous. "We don't have another immo-" Realisation dawned on her. "No way." She said, voice hard. "There is no way I'm letting him back in here." Peter sighed and turned to Noah, pleading for help with his eyes. Noah shook his head. He would not stand up for Sylar. No way. Peter sighed and turned back to Claire. "Claire, you have to admit he'd be useful in this." Claire pursed her lips, glaring at Peter. That was true, he'd probably be the best agent to put out on this...But... Slowly, a crooked grin formed on Peter's face when he realised he had won the argument. Claire scowled at him. "Fine. But he left remember? It was his choice." Peter shrugged, grin still in place. "I'm sure we could find him if we-" Claire cut him off.

"Fine. Go look for him if you want. If you're not able to find him in a week, I'm going to bring down this son-of-a-bitch myself." She stepped closer to Peter, giving him the harshest glare she was capable of. "You got that?" Peter backed away from her, his hands up in surrender. "Got it." Claire stepped away from him, turning towards the door and slamming it behind her. For a beat, there was silence. Then, "Geez, who knew Claire could be so...Scary?"

Noah watched Claire's retreating form, remembering her teenage days. "You have no idea." He replied, smiling slightly.

* * *

_Peter Petrelli and Emma Coolidge, New York.._

"Hey Emma," Peter smiled as she gave him a small peck on the cheek before pulling him into their living room, where some kind of indie-jazz music was playing. Peter smiled as he saw the colours-pink, purple, green and blue wash over the two of them. He spun her around, his smile growing wider as she laughed and wrapped her arms around him. He loved seeing her so happy. She stepped away from him, turning off the music, before spinning around to face him again.

"I found this earlier today." She signed, brushing a strand of blonde hair off of her face. "Do you like it?"

He nodded, stuffing his hands in his pockets. He really didn't want to ask her to do this, especially since she hadn't so much as touched her cello since Samuel...Well, she didn't particularly like that subject. But he had to find Sylar. Sending Claire in to face this Joker guy, _alone_... He didn't particularly like the idea of that either.

"What's wrong?" She asked worriedly, clasping her hands together and playing with her thumbs. His lips lifted slightly as he saw the ring he had given her twinkle in the dim lighting of their living room. He covered her hands with his.

"Nothing...It's just..." He bit his lip. "I need you to use your siren. To find Sylar." Something in her eyes fell and somehow something in his hear dropped as well.

"It's okay, never mind, I'll do it." He backtracked quickly, not wanting to upset her. Emma sighed, putting her hand on his and smiling slightly.

"It's okay, Peter...Really." She smiled nervously again. "I can do it." Her smile turned rueful. "I've always been better at it than you anyway." And before he could protest, she had pulled away from him and was heading down towards the basement. The place where they put away things they didn't want to remember. He followed her down, bracing himself for the memories that were about to hit. They weren't all bad, some of them, just... Hurt.

He winced as he walked down the dust-filled staircase. A huge portrait of him and Nathan(Angela's gift) guarded the doorway of the basement. Another reminder of why he hated coming down here. A familiar pang tugged at his heart. The anger wasn't there anymore, though. He smiled. It felt better without the anger.

He moved past the pictures and portraits toward Emma, who was standing in the middle of the room, staring at the beautiful wooden instrument like she was scared of it. He wrapped his arms around her waist, and kissed the back of her neck. "It's okay."

She nodded, trailing a hand down it cautiously. "I can do it, you know." Peter whispered, covering her hands with his.

She shook her head. "I want to do this." She signed, pulling away and picking up the bow. She lowered herself on the chair that sat beside her cello, lifting her bow to the strings. She gave him a nervous smile, and he smiled back encouragingly. The bow touched the strings. Colours filled the room. Blue, green and purple. Peter smiled as the deep, rich song resounded throughout the room. He briefly flashbacked to the time when he had _really_ met her- that day in the park. He grinned as he saw Emma's eyes close, and a real smile dawn on her face. He didn't know how long they were down there, but by the time they had emerged from the basement, it was already dark out.

"So, did it work?" He asked her, pulling her toward the dinner table.

Emma bit her lip, before signing, "I think so...I felt something stringing him toward me..I'm not sure-" He cut her off with a finger to her lips. "Shh...He reassured her. "I trust you." Emma smiled, pulling him in and kissing him lightly on the lips and leaning against his chest. Peter basked in the normalcy in the moment, closing his eyes and letting the feelings of warmth, love and comfort encompass him. A knock at the door startled both of them.

Peter opened the door to find a stubble-faced Sylar, hair unkempt and quite obviously uncombed looking at him with an expression that only be described as pissed. "Peter, there better be a damn good reason."

Peter smiled, shaking his head. "Come in."

* * *

**So yeah...There's the prologue;) I'm really excited about this story, becuz I just can't explain how much I adore the Joker...And Sylar...And Claire. And Heroes. And Batman. So this story is going to be so much funnn to write!;) WHEEEEEE! **


	2. Renegades

_Noah and Claire Bennet, Sylar, Peter Petrelli, The New Company_

Claire glared at the dark haired man sitting opposite her. He glared back.

"Give me back the file." She tried to grab it from him, but he held it out of her reach.

"I'm not done reading it." He fixed her with another glare as he leaned back in his seat, and pointedly ignored her making faces at him.

Noah and Peter watched them carefully, like they were a highly entertaining ping-pong match. "Well, it's nice to see they have no hard feelings." Peter whispered to Noah as Claire unsuccessfully tried to kick Sylar under the table. He simply propped up his feet on the table, much to Claire's annoyance.

"You think this is bad?" Noah whispered back. "Remember when they had to partner up for that one case, two years ago?" He shuddered. "We practically had to pull them off each other every five minutes."

"Well," Peter sighed, "That's what you get for putting two of the world's most stubborn people together." Noah sighed and nodded. This had been going on for half an hour.

Finally, Sylar put down the file, which Claire immediately snatched up from the table. He rolled his eyes at her and Claire made a face at him.

"Okay," Peter clapped his hands for attention, "that's enough of that. Now that Sylar's all caught up, we've arranged fo the two of you to be at the fundraiser at Gotham tonight. It's a really society type thing, so my mom is helping Claire find a dress, and Sylar..." Peter smirked, "I'm sure you can find a suit."

"Where?" Claire muttered under her breath. "In his coffin?" Sylar gave her a sour look, and slowly he rose from his seat, making his way over to the door.

"Sylar, you have to be outside by 6.15.." Peter called after him, and Sylar, briefly nodding, telekinetically opened the door, letting it slam shut behind him.

Claire followed Sylar out, practically chasing after him, much to Peter and Noah's surprise. Sylar stopped short when he heard her loud, angry footsteps behind him.

"Sylar..." He turned, cocking an eyebrow at her.

She blanched for a second, staring at the floor. Finally, she glanced up at him briefly, and rolling her eyes, she said, "Thank you." Then she turned and ran off, back to the conference room, leaving Sylar staring after, a small smirk on his face.

"You're welcome!" He called after her. She didn't look back. He walked towards the exit of the company, smirk still on his face. Now he just needed to find a suit...

* * *

_Claire Bennet and Angela Petrelli, New York_

"This is the one."

Claire glanced into the mirror, doubt etched onto her face.

"Are you sure?" She toyed with the deep scarlet silk. Her mom had always told her that green was her colour, but Angela seemed to lean toward red.

Angela nodded, smiling as she stood beside Claire in the mirror. The dress hung just slightly below her knees, and was a deep, eye-catching scarlet. It was certainly comfortable, the silk felt like heaven against her skin. It wasn't tight either, and for that, Claire was grateful. She eyed herself critically in the mirror. She looked...Good. She smiled genuinely. She hadn't had time to shop like this in ages.

"We'll take it." Angela called to the twitching store manager, who nodded in relief. Claire sank down onto one of the plush sofas that crowded the dressing room. Angela studied her carefully.

"Is something wrong, dear?" She asked finally, in her usual brisk tone.

"No, I'm fine." Claire gave Angela a tight smile, the deep lines in her forehead indicating the opposite.

"Claire," Angela said with a tight-lipped smile, "I'm at that age where I can tell when someone's lying before they start speaking." Claire huffed and muttered something under her breath that sounded like 'stupid prophetic abilities'.

"I'm just worried...About Sylar coming back." Claire played with her fingernails, twiddling her thumbs. "It's nothing."

"What exactly are you worried about?" Angela asked, sinking down next to her. "That he's going to become bad again?"

Claire gave her a sardonic look. "Of course I'm worried about that! There isn't anything else to be worried about!" Claire began pacing again, almost tripping in the six-inch red heels that Angela had forced her into. "And now he suddenly comes back after a year..." Claire ran her fingers through her hair, shuddering. "I mean, who knows what he's been doing.."

Angela stood, placing a comforting hand on Claire's shoulder. "Claire, I can assure you, he wasn't killing anybody."

"How would you know anyway?" Claire scowled, crossing her arms.

"You could say I've had him under surveillance." Angela gave her a cold smile, picking up her purse from one of the silk-lined sofa's.

Claire's mouth dropped open, then closed. "Let me guess; Peter doesn't know about this?" She studied Angela as she walked away from Claire.

Angela paused at the door, giving her an appraising look. "Of course not, dear. And neither does Sylar, so I'll expect you to keep this to yourself." Angela's voice grew fainter as she got further away. Claire rolled her eyes. Angela and her secrets. It never ended with her, did it?

Claire checked the elegantly carved white-marble clock behind her. If she wanted to be at Peter's by 6.15, she had to leave... Now. She pulled her hair back into a ponytail, slicking it back with some hair mousse that Angela had insisted on supplying her with._ Mmm..._ It smelt like strawberries. She pulled the diamond teardrop earrings(also Angela's) through her ear-holes and surveyed the effect. Very dramatic, she thought, tilting her head to the side experimentally. As the last touch, she smeared the deep, coral-red lipstick over her lips, smiling at the effect. She hadn't dressed up like this...Ever. Maybe this could be a substitute Homecoming for the one Sylar had ruined, she mused, then winced. Except for the fact that she'd be spending it with him.

With one last fleeting glance at the mirror, Claire was out of there. It was only one evening of surveillance... It couldn't be that bad, she decided.. Probably.

* * *

Sylar sighed, pushing back the sleeve of his rented tux to check the time. A small smile ghosted over his face as he looked at the familiar logo of the cracked face of the watch. _Sylar._

He inhaled deeply, closing his eyes. There were so many memories, in this particular city. Memories he would much rather forget. Peter, Nathan, Hiro Nakamura, Ando Masahashi, Isaac Mendez, Ted Sprague, Micah Sanders, Mohinder, Chandra, Angela Petrelli, Arthur Petrelli, Elle, Noah... He smirked._ Claire Bennet. _He had almost forgotten. She had been one of the most interesting of them all.

She had lived through all of her encounters with him(a truly remarkable feat), her abilities making it easier, but still. She had fought back against him, something he truly admired in all his victims, and... He scowled. Her face was etched into his hand. It was something truly vexing that he'd never quite understood. After that truly enlightening(and painful), encounter with her, he had fled to Matt Parkman, who once again had screwed him over. Locked him inside his deepest nightmare. And who knew what would have happened if Peter hadn't found him? He'd probably still be in that nightmare, listening to the quiet _'tick-tick' _of the endless watches that had filled his 'house' in his nightmare. He shuddered.

A cab pulled up in front of the building, followed by a long, black limosine. Claire stepped out of the cab, looking like a really, _really_, hot mess, harried and dressed from head to toe in red. He couldn't help the sudden dryness in his throat; he gulped, trying to will his breathing back to normal. Well, no one said Claire wasn't attractive, and no matter all his more sadistic qualities, he wasn't blind.

Out of the limosine stepped Peter and Emma, and Sylar couldn't help but feel envious of their, normal, _comfortable_ clothing. Peter owed him. Big.

It wasn't the only thing he was envious of,though. The wide smiles they shot each other, the way they immediately reached for each other's hands as they exited the huge car... Their connection was so patently obvious. He couldn't remember having any relationship, romantic or not, that was so... Smooth. Simple. Happy. Maya had been a con, a con that anyone with two eyes could see. Except of course, the black-haired beauty. He snorted inwardly. She had been so naiive, it was almost painful to watch. Elle... His expression darkened. She had been a mistake. A big one.

He snapped out of his gaze when Peter neared. Emma and Claire stayed by the limo, talking about... Shoes. He rolled his eyes. Women.

Peter slapped a hand on his back, turning him away from Emma and Claire.

"Okay, Sy, here's the plan. You and Claire are going undercover as friends of the mayor, and you're a couple, so just try and pretend you don't hate each other."

Sylar opened his mouth to disagree, but Peter was faster. "If this guy does turn up..." Peter's eyes darkened. "Keep Claire safe. She doesn't want me or Noah near this... And I'm trusting _you_." Peter gave him a hard look, before turning toward Claire and Emma.

"She's the only piece of Nathan I have left." Sylar nodded, returning Peter's gaze toward the red-clad blonde. He didn't understand, though. Claire was nothing like Nathan... Not in looks, nor in character. Except for that annoying stubborn streak both of them possessed. Nevertheless, Peter was Peter and though he found the man unfathomable more often than not, he had accepted him for who he was, and... Sylar owed him. For everything he had done.

"Good luck." Peter gave his hand a rough shake, before patting him on the back. He looked over at Claire, who nodded briefly at him, before waving at Peter and giving Emma a light hug. She turned and moved into the limo, and Sylar followed suit.

The door slammed shut behind them, and he felt the car begin to move. Sylar opened his mouth to say something, but Claire beat him to it.

"Don't talk." She closed her eyes, reclining against the seat. "It'll make this car ride so much longer."

He smirked, leaning back against the soft leather and letting darkness overtake him.

* * *

_He had had a rough time. It was expected, after all, having just escaped Arkham, but still. He grinned though, thinking of all the trouble he was going to cause. He had heard that Bruce had left a long time ago, but he also was aware that someone new was cleaning up the streets. Two someones actually.. Some people called the 'New Company', who dealt with people a little... specialer, and someone who apparently had taken old Brucie's place. Oh well, he thought, brandishing his knife. Should be fun either way._

**xxxxxxxxxxx**

Claire brushed an imaginary piece of lint of Sylar's jacket, trying to fit her role as the work-obsessed politicians girlfriend. She glanced up at his eyes, which, were not as she remembered them at all. Usually, they held a lilting sarcasm, like the world was a joke he found hilarious. But now the humor was gone, and he just looked utterly _exhausted._

"Where were you for the past year?" She asked as he slipped his hand into hers and led her to the entrance of the huge mansion.

"And why should I tell you?" He grinned, but it was a shallow echo of what he had been able to do. She pulled him aside out of the way of several people that were crowding the Wayne manor.

"You look pretty..." She bit her lip, floundering for the right words.

"Hot?" He suggested, waggling his eyebrows at her.

She rolled her eyes at him and said finally, "drained."

"So I don't look hot then?" He asked, grinning and trying to distract her.

"You're not answering the question." Claire hissed, exasperated.

"You're not answering mine." He smirked, grabbing her arm and leading her back to the entrance. He swerved them around people, weaving through the crowds and acting like the self-important politician he was pretending to be. Claire grit her teeth, promising herself she'd get an answer from him later. He couldn't deflect her forever.

_There_ were so many _people_... Claire felt herself shrink. It had been hell for her, after she'd jumped and there'd been all those press conferences, meetings, dinners and all those social functions which were practically just an excuse for people to stare at her like she was a great science experiment... She took a deep breath, trying to calm herself. It was okay. Everything was fine.

"I didn't know the Ferris Wheel girl had a boyfriend..." She heard someone whisper as they passed, and then, "she did well, I suppose. For a _freak._"

Claire flinched noticeably, cringing. She should be used to it, but it still stung. She glanced up at Sylar, wondering if he'd heard. His eyes had hardened, his shoulder's tensed slightly, but other than that, there wasn't really a trace of any emotion present on his face. She gripped his hand tighter, not wanting to be swallowed by the vicious words of the crowd.

He pulled her out of the strains of people, moving into a quiet corner of the room. The band was playing something familiar, and it tugged on a memory of his. Sitting down on the piano every weekend when he was fourteen, and playing until his fingers bled and his mother applauded. She never clapped until his hands were aching, he remembered wryly. Never. Regardless, he remembered the song, and he grinned as the name flashed to his mind.

"What?" Claire asked, glancing up at him inquisitively.

"This song." He laughed. "Claire de lune."

She rolled her eyes, but a small grin tugged at her lips as she watched him float over two glasses of champagne. He had never been one for subltlety, she noted, quietly grinning to herself. One of the annoying, yet amusing things about him that she had put together in her mind. She didn't know what to feel about him anymore. At one part, right at the very core of her, was anger. Hot, white anger. Another part of her knew... She struggled with admitting this... That he was not entirely bad. That no person, was entirely bad. And that nowadays, he was more good than bad anyway.

She set her glass down, quirking her head to the side and considering him. He was like... A huge puzzle, with all these little pieces to him that were utterly confusing, hurtful and dark. And then there were sides of him that were wonderful; his eyes, his sense of humor, and his loyalty, which were like little gems woven in between the sharp pieces of him.

Sylar looked away from her, finding her appraising, inquisitive glance, slightly, urm... Intimidating. He scoffed. He, _Sylar, _intimidated by Claire Bennet. Who was, at least three feet shorter than him. He ran a hand through his hair, chuckling slightly. How things change.

"Where did you go?" She asked, stepping closer to him, her eyes boring into him. "Why did you leave?" Her green eyes met his, and all at once, he was able to _see_ why she had been the one. She had been his key to evolution, his solution to loneliness, the girl on his arm, the girl who changed the world. She was _pure_. And she had the potential to be powerful, but had turned it down, for the sake of being good. He chuckled. Claire.

"What?" She asked, slightly miffed that he'd laughed at her.

"Nothing, nothing." He soothed, breaking eye contact and surveying the room. Couples were scattered here and there, slow dancing to the quiet, yet magnificent music that surrounded them. He grabbed her wrist on impulse, spinning her out, then back into him.

Claire gasped, attempting to pull away. He held steadfast, grinning.

"Come on. Have a little fun." He dipped her minutely, before pulling her back up. She glared at him, but her cheeks were flushed and a smile threatened to spill. She opened her mouth to say something, maybe yes, maybe no, when a scream ripped through the room, leaving a cutting silence behind it. A shot echoed throughout the room, followed by more screams.

People in front of her ducked down, but Claire's eyes narrowed as a man, in a violet, striped purple suit stepped up, followed by a group of _seriously_ built-up guys wearing clown masks. He cocked his shotgun, grinning manically.

"Why hello Gotham. Did you miss me?"

* * *

**HEYLO THERE!** **I really hope you're enjoying this as much as I am. I'm really sorry for the long wait, inspiration ran a little dry. Hopefully the next one will be faster though:D Please leave a review!;) **


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